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2011 - Blog

On 11 October 2011 I was up at 5.55am, I was not 'allowed' to eat breakfast; I caught the 0657 No 29 bus to the Hospital; I walked round to the Freedom Unit on floor 2 in the gloom of the dawn; I met one of the hospital receptionists, from the main concourse, who expressed surprise on seeing me about so early, and cheered me up no end by making the right sympathetic noises!  Outside the doors of the Freedom Unit, I passed a lady standing there who looked very sad, and  whom I thought I recognised but whom I did not greet.  Subsequently, I feel sure that this lady was a person usually 'in the public eye', but not a 'celebrity', but a Media Presenter . . . whom I have not seen since . . ..

The Anaesthetist called me 'Mrs' for which I reprimanded him, and said I preferred not to be so addressed as it states quite clearly on my notes that I am 'Miss'.  Subsequently I did apologise for my blunt forthrightness, and he apologised to me.  However . . . he did not know that I subsequently filled in a questionnaire - sent to me by some independent 'think tank' about my experiences when a patient at Derriford Hospital:- I gave a full appraisal which included my observation that I would prefer my Anaesthetist not to breath faggy breath over me!  There were exhortations pinned up in the waiting area which included 'please do NOT go outside and have a smoke before you have your operation' that was directed to the patients . . . not the Staff!  C'est la Vie! 

At 11.40am, I had a short walk to the Theatre in the Freedom Unit.  The Medical Student doing her Anaesthesia stint, was sharply told by Mr Anaesthetist that the i/v cannula required replacing as, when he tried to give me a intravenous injection of 'whatever' it leaked interstitially!  However, said Student was not in the least abashed and just got on with the job.

I came out of the Theatre at 1.40pm; I dressed; I had some water and digestive biscuits; the first volume of The Golden Bough, which I had been reading beforehand, was located in the Anaesthetic Room - which was just as well, because it is a Library Book!  Abbey Yusuf, my Personal Assistant with regards to cataloguing my Hippo Collection, came to escort me home and stay a night . . . I knew that Mary was planning to go away on the following day.  Abbey collected me about 2.30pm having parked her car up the hill from the Freedom Unit because she did not realise there was a dedicated pick-up and drop-off area by the door; Abbey's anxieties on behalf of the patient who had to walk a short distance were soon dispelled!  We had bananas and saffron buns and JH had some soup, when we got home to Hippo Haven.  Abbey then studied things to do with her Sign-Language Course - using JH's computer - because an exam was coming up.  On this postoperative occasion, the patient was trying to avoid talking because her throat was very sore following intubation . . . Oh Dear!  Later on Abbey ate two jacket potatoes and some margarine - to which she is not allergic and which she had brought with her - for her tea; the patient had scrambled egg and tinned spaghetti, which satisfied the remaining food deficit.  Together we had a grand washing-up session thereafter.  We went to bed about 11.30pm.  The patient got up about six times but in between slept well!

Abbey had no necessity to rush off the next morning so we had a leisurely breakfast of croissants at 8.30am . . . and chatted - my sore throat was much less sore.  Abbey needed no persuasion to help the patient do some 'serious work' on her 1000-piece Hippo Jigsaw - work-in-progress for 3 years.  The patient finally omitted her shower and dressed very late in the morning, and took Abbey to the Square Café where the patient ate her 'usual' lunch of a light-weight breakfast, and Abbey had hot chocolate - made without milk . . . Abbey went home about 3.30pm and the patient went back to jigsawing . . ..  The patient - as ever - broke the rules and went swimming on her 6th postoperative day.  The patient dutifully took off her dressing on the 7th postoperative day.

On 26 October 2011 I attended a post-operative appointment at the Primrose Unit where Mr Cant got straight to the point and explained that the last Histology Report indicated that left mastectomy was mandatory.  The usual preamble/postamble was gone through.  I was given a date for my surgery.

I had noted in my Keeping Abreast dossier that, after each excision, I had received a questionnaire from Infection & Prevention Control at Derriford Hospital: I sent each questionnaire back with a negative response - in other words - I had no evidence of infection.  I did not receive a similar questionnaire after my mastectomy but, if I had, the feedback would have been the same!

On 14 November 2011 I caught a late number 29 bus to Derriford to attend Erme for my fourth pre-operative scrutiny.  Although I arrived somewhat after the allotted appointment time of 8.40am no comment was made - much to my relief as, in my time, I have met some frosty receptionists but, I suppose, they think my behaviour is a bit OTT at the best of times!  I was allowed to leave by 10.45am.  I noted in my diary that, whilst moseying around the Hospital, I met Louise - Isobel's friend in the lift; and I met Margaret - Lyn's fellow colleague, and so Lyn popped out of the Appointments Office to say 'hello'; and I met Jane Pollard - with whom I used to play music, and after whose name I wrote 'PSFA' . . . there is a problem with initialisms - one does not always remember what they stand for!  After eating a small helping of the pork carvery in the Greenbank Restaurant - which I really enjoyed with lashings of apple sauce - I made my way home.

Two days later - I met Lyn in the Restaurant so that we could finalise the arrangements for her to escort me home on the day after my surgery.  In the afternoon I attended my appointment on the Primrose Unit where Jenny gave me a Pre-operative Briefing.  Jenny showed me photographs of a mastectomy scar - with great concern - to forewarn me of the appearance of my chest wall - minus a breast.  Although I had seen some ghastly sights such as fungating breast lesions, and broken-down mastectomy incisions during my Nursing Training in the 1960s, I was pleased to be counselled so sympathetically: this was happening to me now. 

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Furthermore, although I had already been given lots of literature about Breast Cancer and my forthcoming treatment, on my request for information about intimate relationships, I was given a book published by Breast Cancer Care.  I feel sure that Jenny had no presumptions about which patient should be handed this information, but no doubt she bore in mind that I loudly implied my single status, particularly by my having a 'bee in my bonnet' about not being addressed as 'Mrs'!  In any event, when I passed the observation that 'I know that I am 70' Jenny intimated that age was no bar to my receiving the requested information!

 
 
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